


Episode 57: Ta tac'pix a til

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [57]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Clan, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "I didn't know it was advice hour." ~AviilaIn those quiet moments, when you find yourself alone thinking about the dead, find the living and give them unwanted life advice.
Series: Clan Meso'a [57]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1261364
Kudos: 1





	Episode 57: Ta tac'pix a til

“Ha, Kan, Ox, Ak, Yun, pixo!” [Five, four, three, two, one, now!] 

“It’s okay, Cara,” Jecho chuckled, helping the teen into the bunk, “I was sick the first time I entered hyperspace.”  
Cara mumbled something along the lines of “uh-huh” as she slumped down beneath the thin blanket. Jecho patted her back, left the crew quarters, and ascended the ladder to the upper deck. Hyperspace was a different kind of quiet than “regular” space. Jecho only went on a few supply runs with Beun and therefore her only real experience with it was being carted off to a new owner. Her first trip was with her brother, someone she hadn’t thought about in a long time and wasn’t about to start. She’d made peace with that a long time ago. Still, there were moments when she caught herself wanting to tell him something, to share with him a problem she couldn’t solve or an issue in her life she just couldn’t get over. On the trip to Dxun it was her fear for Vonni’s life. On the way out, it was her guilt. Now, she wanted to tell him she was doing the right thing as if hearing his voice, his approval, would calm her nerves. In reality hearing the dead would probably give her a horrible fright. She caught herself smiling at the absurdity before the dread of tomorrow settled in. Once they were in position, it would be up to her to interface with Ordo, and her friends. For a moment, when Alor Yaun was discussing the plan, Jecho had hope she wouldn’t have to face them yet. More importantly she wouldn’t have to face Lyse. She’d understand if Vonni had moved on, if he hated her for leaving, but Lyse… Jecho took a deep breath and massaged the palm of her hand with her thumb. The thought of Lyse always made her feel worse than she ever did when thinking about Teika or Vonni. In her head, she imagined walking up to the hanger with Cara skipping beside her. She imagined the looks on their faces when they saw her happy and healthy..and maybe a few inches taller. She imagined how happy they’d be to see her… but she could never change the look she always saw on Lyse’s face… Disappointment? Anger? Rejection? She couldn’t describe it. She guessed it was just her luck that the intel from the bounty named Beun’s crew as the intended hunters. In all her studies of Meso’a history, she did her best not to make her own theories… but the lack of evidence for why the job was posted to outsiders had her worried. If it was a trap, if they made it to the ship and set off a trap… if she found them dead-  
“You alright?” asked Aviila, leaning on the doorframe beside her.   
“I...yes,” Jecho lied, putting on a smile, “Cara’s motion sickness should wear up. I gave her some of the tonic in the medkit.”   
The warrior nodded, staring off at the ladder.   
“I’m going to miss her,” she said, “I always wanted children, lots of them, but-”  
“Life doesn’t always do what we want.”   
“You’re telling me.”   
Jecho raised an eyebrow, “You know I couldn’t see you settling down with anyone for too long.”   
Aviila chuckled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Jecho shrugged, “Just that, in the few months I’ve known you I think I know why you having a permanent home struck me as odd.”  
“Oh?”  
“Many raiders live on their ships or with their crew in a shared home, but you,” she continued, “You lived alone. With two beds.”   
Aviila laughed again, “Maybe I had a sibling.”   
“But you don’t”   
She shrugged, “How would you know?”  
“I think you’re dodging the issue here.”   
“Does it matter?”   
Jecho shook her head, “It doesn’t but… when you get back, maybe try again?”   
Aviila rolled her eyes, “You sound like Niri.”   
“She does talk some sense in between the snark,” Jecho pointed out, “Besides, maybe it would be a good change? I heard you’re letting go of the holodisc. That’s a big step.”   
Aviila didn’t respond, instead her gaze shifted to the holomap just visible down the hall. It was displaying their ETA along with a red line showing the hyperlane they were traveling.   
“I don’t know how much it means to you,” Jecho went on, “but for all you’ve done for Cara, for the Clan, I think you deserve a little happiness right now.”   
Aviila scoffed, but smiled, “Ta tac’pix a til.” [colloquial; akin to “putting it away for a rainy day”; lit. I can dig a hole in the ground]   
“Maybe it’s time to use it, then?”   
“Maybe.” 

“Tak we’ne,” muttered Weiyn, taking Cho’s hands as he helped her up off the bench. [I want to sleep].   
Koucitesh kissed her cheek and patted her father-in-law’s shoulder then returned to the holotable. Taerh’a followed them out into the hallway, said his goodbyes, and went back to his wife’s side. Palouta’s husband, Ra’ec, had joined them a few hours earlier and was seated with Kuntz and Kore a few rows back. As Taerh’a passed, he caught snippets of Kuntz’s recap of the past few days. Like his husband, Ra’ec wore his hair in a mohawk and kept his sides neatly shaven. However, the similarities ended there as Ra’ec was not indigenous. He was a Mirialan of average height for his kind, and his skin was dark from days spent out on the water with the rest of his tribe. Taerh’a remembered hearing of the wedding or, as he liked to think of it, the first time Palouta had thought of anyone but himself. That was before he became an attendant to the alor, to Van’idal. He and Vedraeja were longtime friends, sharing in each other’s paranoia about the misdeeds of the other clans. Ra’ec balanced them, being of the opinion that not much else mattered other than the movement of the waters. He’d always been at home among the waves, or so Taerh’a was told. It did check out, as every time he and Koucitesh visited, Ra’ec would have to be called in from a dive to meet with them. He wasn’t Palouta’s opposite but he did provide a balance being paired with Vedraeja would have upended. Now that he thought of her, Taerh’a realized he hadn’t heard from her in a long time. He’d always meant to ask Barsulr or Meiri, seeing as attendants trained together, but always stopped himself. The Trandoshan sisters were never very social and preferred to train as just the pair, opting to watch the others instead of participate. Though it was part of their duties to familiarize themselves with the fighting styles of their peers, they asserted that observation was sufficient. Koucitesh and even Ba’atuk had their concerns, but the sisters never relented. In the back of his mind, he tried to hold onto hope that if a real conflict came to Meso’kaan, the sisters would be ready.   
“Troubled?” asked Hunap, putting an arm on his shoulder and leaning on him.   
“If I ever wasn’t, then there’s something wrong with me,” he joked.   
She didn’t smile, “You worry for Aviila?”  
“You don’t?”  
She shrugged, “I mourned her once. I won’t again.”   
“That’s not the same as having faith in her.”   
“I didn’t say it was faith.”   
The Togruta regarded her, “What do you mean, then?”  
“The time to mourn has passed. If she falls, I will not mourn,” she held up a fist, “I will fight. Would you not?”   
Taerh’a crossed his arms. “Of course I would.”   
She narrowed her eyes. “Puk’mot?” she called over his shoulder. [Heart-mother?]   
Koucitesh smiled and nodded without looking up from the display. Hunap gave a satisfied grunt and a few pats to Taerh’a’s back before joining her sister at Alor Yaun’s side. He watched her leave, feeling slightly offended at her implied accusation. Mumbling something about wanting fresh air, he left the council chambers. Over at the window, Alor Yaun was staring out at the fading light of dusk, arms clasped behind his back. At Hunap’s approach, he made a “tut” and shook his head.   
“Ba’vodu?” she snickered, mimicking his stance. [Uncle?]  
He smiled, glanced at her, then back out the window.


End file.
